Gerald Speaks
by Pyrus Japonica
Summary: Inside the mind of a character often taken for granted, you might find that he has some surprises after all. A story on the nature of love and the forms it can take.


Gerald Speaks

By Pyrus Japonica

Disclaimer:  Nope, don't own Hey Arnold!  Although I've often thought that if I did, I'd still write fanfiction just for fun.

_You hurt most the ones you love most._

            My mom loves little sayings like that.  Usually they're a bit more motivational, like "Your room reflects the nature of your mind…so go clean it." or Jamie O's personal favorite "If your life stinks, go take a shower."  He actually made a list of all her "Momarisms" one time so he could tally up how many times she said each one.  We made bets on which she said the most.  I was wining with "We can't send it to Bosnia, so you might as well eat it." (37 times in two and a half weeks – there was a sale on eggplant and Mom buys in bulk) when she found the list in his room.  She laughed 'til she cried, then grounded all of us for a week, even Timberly.

_You hurt most the ones you love most._

            That one though, that I only ever heard her say once.

            I'm no romantic, my best friend Arnold could tell you that.  It's not that I don't believe in love, I'm just not into poetry and junk like that.  If I write a poem, it's an assignment for school.  If I must go to some fancy French restaurant, I'll order moldy cheese.  It's all about attitude really.  I'm Gerald, Keeper of Tales, the coolest kid around.  And if I want to keep that title, emotions gotta take a back seat.

            I hate suits, regardless of how good I look in them.  The starch in my collar always itches and the extra layers are making me sweat.  Outside, the sun is in full scorching mode, and I shudder just thinking of how long I'll be standing out there.  Whose idea was it to have an outdoor service in the middle of August anyway?

            Most of the family is in the room, ready to go.  My little sister Timberly is sitting on the end of the couch kicking her feet so she can watch how her new black dress flies around.  She was spinning until Jamie O made her sit next to him.  He's unusually serious and probably even more uncomfortable than I am right now.  My dad is standing at the door, waiting patiently on my mother.  I sighed and sat down next to my brother.  We had been ready to go for almost 20 minutes now, but it was like my mom didn't want us to leave.  She kept rushing around the house, finding some little thing wrong or something she forgot.  First she left her purse in the bedroom, then Timberly's pigtails weren't straight, then Mom's nylons had a snag, and when she came back from changing them she had left her purse behind again.  Now she was brushing lint off my dad's coat.

            "Ready to go now hon?" he asked her as she frantically picked at little white specks only she could see.

            "Almost, Martin, almost."  She moved to me and began tightening the noose around my neck some idiot had named a tie.

            She was fiddling with Timberly's dress when my dad put his hand on her shoulder.  She looked up at him with a little sigh and nodded.

            "Let's go." he told her.

            I had been right about the heat.  I started sweating almost the moment I stepped outside.  The first chance I had I loosened my tie, but I knew from the look my mom was giving me that I'd better keep my jacket on.  Arnold gave me a sympathetic smile – he had stripped his jacket off long ago.

            It was, of course, Mr. Simmon's idea for the class to come with us today, and to my surprise quite a few of them actually took him up on it.  It was kind of nice to know that they cared enough to come.  I mean, I could sure think of some better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.  At least we had a tent for a minimal amount of shade.  There weren't many trees around – it was one of those newer cemeteries, nothing but grass and little bunches of flowers as far as the eye could see.  Still, I for one would much rather be inside watching TV.  That may sound callous but it's not like I really knew my Grandmother anyway.  She lived on the other side of the city and somehow we had never seemed to get around to visiting her.  The few memories I have of her are mostly blurs from preschool, besides the past few days in the hospital.

            I have got to get out of this jacket.  I glance at my mom again to see if she's looking, but forget about the heat as soon as I see her.  She's crying.  I'm not sure I've ever seen her cry.  Then she wipes her hand over her eyes and blinks, trying to pretend she's fine, and I realize that I have seen her cry before.

            _I was only seven at the time, old enough to know Mommy was angry but too young to understand why.  I remember standing by the phone, trying to catch the cord as it swung back and forth, back and forth in rhythm with my mother's pacing.  Her voice, already loud, was growing louder by the second and soon I stopped playing and put my hands over my ears to stop the noise.  I shut my eyes tight and when I opened them again she had hung up the phone and was brushing her hand across her eyes._

_            "Mommy?"_

_            She looked at me for the first time, suddenly realizing I was there.  Then she took a deep breath and knelt down beside me._

_            "Yes sweetie?"_

_            "Are you mad at Grandma?"_

_            "Not mad, just…upset."_

_            "Why?"_

_            "She did something…she shouldn't have done."  She looked at the floor._

_            "Did she make you sad?"_

_            "Yes, she made me very sad.  That's why Mommy was so loud."_

_            I considered this.  "But didn't you hurt her feelings?"_

_            Mom snorted but stopped herself from whatever she was going to say.  "Yes Gerald, I might have.  But she hurt mine just as badly."_

_            I had one more question.  "Don't you love each other?"_

_            She gave me a sad little smile._

_            "Of course we do Gerald.  It's just that…sometimes, you hurt most the ones you love the most."_

            I hadn't understood her at the time.  Now I think I understand a little more.

            Arnold looks concerned, a normal expression for him.  He probably saw my mom crying also.  Then he glances at me and I know he's wondering why I'm not going over and trying to help.  My dad's already there, so I probably don't need to, but Arnold wouldn't understand that.  He can't stand to see someone hurting, even more so now because it's my family.  So I just give him a nod (it didn't seem like the time for a thumb-wiggle) and head over to my mom, who puts an arm around me protectively the moment I get there.

            Arnold is sort of obsessed with families.  Maybe it's because his own is so "non-traditional".  After all, how many kids do you know who lives with his grandparents in a boarding house full of loons?  His grandparents aren't exactly normal either.  Maybe that's why he turned out so wacked.  Don't get me wrong, my man Arnold is true blue.  But wacked.  I can't even tell you the number of times he's messed up my big plans so we can "do the right thing".  I used to try to argue with him, even convince him that my way really was the right thing to do.  But I'm doing that less and less as time passes.  I still think he's wacked, but he's usually right in the long run.  So now I'm into more shaking my head, saying "You're a bold kid, Arnold", and going along with him.  After all, what would he do without me to back him up?

            Out of the corner of my eye I see a girl with a scowl on her face shift her weight from one foot to the other and fold her arms.  She was directly across from Arnold, who looked oddly cheerful.  I frowned.  _Come on __Arnold__, this is a funeral!  But then I realized what he was so happy about and rolled my eyes.  With me gone, he was left standing right next to Lila.  I shook my head and looked back at the scowling girl._

            In Arnold's quest to right all wrongs, there are a few places he goes where I won't follow.  And the one he keeps coming back to is the one I shy away from the most.  Helga G. Pataki.  The Bully in a Pink Bow.  Bane of our Fourth Grade existence.  And the one wrong Arnold can't seem to right.

            She had exchanged her customary pink bow for a black one in honor of the occasion, but her attitude remained the same.  I thought the color suited her.  I was sure she didn't want to be here, heck, I didn't want to be here.  Phoebe had probably dragged her along.  Yeah, there was Pheebs, right next to Helga like she always was.  She looked worried, probably because Helga's upset for some reason.  When Helga's upset, we all suffer.  I could see Sid, who somehow ended up next to her, edging away nervously.  He glanced longingly at Stinky and Harold, both a safe distance away standing on the other side of Arnold.  They were also looking at Helga, checking for signs that she was about to blow.  Arnold himself cast a concerned glance her way, before regressing back into his Lila-induced stupor.

            Helga ignored them all, however, and when Arnold looked at her she turned away, still scowling, and – stared straight at me.

            Helga G. Pataki is staring at me.

            I braced myself and stared back, expressionless, willing myself not to look away.  A few seconds passed like that, neither one of us wanting to be the first to back down, and then Helga recollected herself and broke her gaze.  I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.  Helga had stopped scowling and untwisted her arms, as if she had suddenly remembered how to act at a funeral, and her expression was now back to neutral.  Somehow, it seemed more appropriate to me than Arnold's sappy smile or my mom's tears.

            I tend to steer clear of Arnold when he's in one of his "Helga moods".  He'll think nothing of her for weeks and then for a few days she's all he can think about.  "What's wrong with Helga?"  "Where is Helga going?"  "How can I help Helga?"

            I usually hang out with Phoebe during those times.  Phoebe and I understand each other.  Between us we know Helga and Arnold like no one else does in the world.  Sometimes she just gives me this look.  And I know what she means – "There they go again."  I guess we're a pretty odd pairing, really.  Sometimes she reminds me a little of Arnold though, so maybe it's not that strange that we're friends.

            I hadn't really been paying attention to the service, so it startled me a little when my mom squeezed my neck and then headed to the front of the tent.  I guess she had been asked to say a few words.  She looked a bit stronger as she turned to face the crowd, more like the mother I knew.  She half-smiled at us and began to speak.

            "Those of you who knew my mother and me both are probably wondering why I'm even here today, much less standing in front of you now.  It's no secret that we didn't get along.  Some of you even have the battle scars to prove it."  There were a few light chuckles from the audience.

            "The fact of it is that my mother was a selfish, bitter, mean-spirited, emotionally constipated, angry, controlling old woman.  I told her so myself, many times, at various decibel levels."  I heard my dad stifle a laugh.

            "And I loved her.  So much."

            She broke down then, and I looked away hurriedly.  I didn't want to see her like this, and I didn't want my friends to see her like this.  Some of the guys were looking uncomfortable, and I saw a few of the girls getting teary-eyed.  My eyes stopped on Helga.  I had expected her to be rolling her eyes and back to scowling by now, but she wasn't.  She was just standing there, and she looked almost…lost.  I found myself wondering what she was thinking about.  What would she say at her mother's funeral?  Was there someone she both loved and hated?  What would they say about her when her time came?  I had this nagging feeling that I had seen her like this before, and suddenly I remembered when…

_            "Hi Gerald."_

_            I entered the room and closed the door behind me, then scratched the back of my neck.  I hate suits._

_            "What, no 'Tall Hair Boy'?"_

_            "Not today.  Please, have a seat."_

_            I sat on the chair she indicated by her bed and eyed her warily.  This was not like the Helga G. Pataki I knew.  Whatever she was plotting, I had to be ready for it.  I'd never seen her be vulnerable and didn't believe I was seeing it now, regardless of what Stinky and Harold had said downstairs.  Helga always had a plan.  She sighed and looked at me._

_            "Gerald, let me get straight to the point.  I…don't have much longer for this world."_

_            I blinked at her.  Could it be?  Was Helga…expiring?_

_            "I know we haven't gotten along very well, and I'm sorry about that.  I was never angry at you, you just sort of…got in the way.  A lot.  Sometimes I think you were annoying me on purpose just to get a reaction out of me."  She fiddled with her thumbs.  "Anyway I just wanted to say I'm sorry.  And give you this."  She handed me something before I could respond._

_            I looked at what I held in my hand.  It was one of those chattering walking teeth that you wind up and it chews its way across the floor._

_            "It's a walking mouth." I whispered and my doubts left me._

_            "You remembered."_

_            I just nodded.  How could I not remember?  It was the day I first met Fuzzy Slippers._

**_            I was three years old, and it was my first day of preschool.  I was rising quickly through the ranks of our class as the coolest kid around, and I had just met my new best friend, Arnold.  I was feeling pretty good about myself, strutting around the playground and talking to everyone.  Then—_**

**_            "Hey!  You're in my way."_**

**_            I turned to see a girl with blonde pigtails and a big pink bow sitting on the grass behind me._**

**_            "Sorry." I said and took a step to the right.  The girl just smiled and went back to looking at something across the yard.  Someone, actually.  _****_Arnold_****_._**

**_            I felt a little twinge.  Sure, _****_Arnold_****_ was great and all, but I was the coolest kid on the grounds.  So I sat down beside her and tried to distract the girl.  I talked up a storm, about anything I could think of.  But she never answered, or even looked at me.  Just him.  Just as I was getting frustrated, a voice from behind called to us._**

**_            "Hey kids!"_**

**_            We looked over but saw nothing.  Whoever was speaking had hidden in a dark corner of the school yard._**

**_            "Come over here!"_**

**_            We were only preschoolers, and we knew nothing of fear.  So we obligingly got up and walked over to the voice.  It turned out to be my man Fuzzy Slippers, looking for the next kid to make Keeper of Tales.  When he explained to us what he was looking for, Helga laughed and pointed at me, grinning._**

**_            "Pick him, he's like a walking mouth!"_**

****

_            I had never thanked her for that.  By the time Fuzzy Slippers was done talking to me, she was long gone and it was snack time.  I remember we had crackers that day, because Helga beat up Harold for the first time over them.  Or something like that, anyway._

_            "Thanks Helga."  I meant it._

_            She looked at me with those lost blue eyes, and I suddenly realized how much I would miss her if she really…I mentally shook myself.  'Come on Gerald this is Helga we're talking about!'  I opened my mouth, feeling I needed to say something more._

_            "I…what are you giving to __Arnold__?"  I don't know why I asked that.  Why should I care?_

_            "The Truth." she said simply.  I didn't ask what that was.  It wasn't my business.  So I nodded again and got up to leave.  But I turned at the door._

_            "Helga, I…"  What was I trying to say?  "I just, I just wanted you to know…"  Come on Gerald spit it out!  "I uh, I think, I l-I think…"  I gulped.  "I think you're ok."  Hardest words I've ever said in my life._

_            We stared at each other for a few moments.  Honestly, I think we both understood what we were trying to say.  We're enough alike to be able to read each other pretty well.  After a while, she smiled at me.  A nice smile, one I haven't seen in years._

_            "I think you're ok too, Tall Hair boy."_

_            I grinned and was about to leave when I thought of one more thing to ask._

_            "Hey Helga, what does the 'G' in your name stand for anyway?"_

_            "Geraldine."_

_            "You're kidding me."_

_            "Nope.  It really is."_

_            Of course, after Helga found out she wasn't going to die she threatened to pound me if I told anyone (I haven't either) but right then, in that moment, Helga and I were cool._

_            And I walked out her door with the tightest feeling around my heart._

            After all, everyone falls for Helga at some point.  Stinky, Brainy, Curly, Harold…one day you just realize how amazing she really is and that's it for you.  Personally, my bet is on Sid for the next man down.

            An elbow jab from Jamie O brought me back to the present.  Helga was back to normal and my mom had gotten herself together.  It looked like she was wrapping up the eulogy.

            "…so I could be the daughter she always wanted me to be.  Love is more than a feeling.  That's part of it, sure.  But real love is self-less.  It is setting the one you love's interests above your own, and it is never easy.  But it is always worth it.  I love you Mom," she caught her breath and continued, "And I know you loved me too.  Even if the world thought we hated every moment we spent together, we knew the truth.  Sometimes two people who love each other are just too alike to stand each other.  I know I told you some of this in the hospital, but I wanted these people to hear it too.  I hope someday to be half the selfish, bitter, mean-spirited, emotionally constipated, angry, controlling old woman that you were.  And I miss you.  So much."

            The rest of the service was a blur to me.  I must have got something in my eye at some point because the next thing I knew, we were leaving and my cheeks were wet.  I looked over towards Helga.  She glanced at me and I knew from her expression that my emotions were all over my face.  I was having trouble getting my cool back.  I just kept remembering little things that were Helga – like plotting to get rid of the new teacher with her…the way she sees through people like Frankie G. or Olga's fiancé…the time she fell asleep in my lap at the opera…even sarcastic comments we've thrown at each other.  Would she worry about me?  Would she wonder what—

            "Are you ok, Gerald?"

            Phoebe.  Of course, Phoebe.  Who else would it be?  I pulled myself together and gave her a thumbs up.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Helga and Arnold ahead of us.  A small summer breeze blew by, and Helga's voice carried on it.

            "Hey Fo-Arnold.  Do you think Gerald's going to be alright?  Because I'd hate to have to put you up to bat instead of him in tomorrow's game."

            I'm fine.  I motion to Phoebe and we head towards the blondes.  Arnold is looking pleasantly surprised at Helga's concern.  _That's right, she's being nice.  But she's still not Lila, __Arnold__.  And until you quit thinking of her that way you'll never see her really, as Helga, the good and the bad.  You may as well be looking through her otherwise._

_            I cleared my throat as we approached.  Helga grabbed Phoebe and mumbled something about rocks and the river.  I drew Arnold aside._

            "Arnold, man, you do realize that you were talking to Helga G. Pataki?"

            Over his shoulder I can see the girls running off toward the docks.  Phoebe looks back with the cutest smile on her face, and waves at me discreetly.  I smile back.  After all, some things are meant to be.

            And some aren't.

A/N:  Some of you may feel that Gerald is kind of OOC in this fic, but I think there's enough grounds in the show for my theories about him.  He's a character that interests me, I can't help but feel that there's a lot more to him than we see at first glance.  Anyway, I can't possibly know what you people think about this unless you tell me (ah yes, logic!) so I'd love it if I could have some reviews.  Thanks for reading!  ~PJ

BTW, if you can stand reading this thing again (AHHH!  NO!!) you might see it a bit differently if you reread it while knowing what Gerald "really" thinks of Helga.  At least I did.  Just a thought.


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